New York Minute
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: When 13 old Lacy Steed, promising Seer and daughter of a prominent Merlinian, goes missing in 1939 Manhattan Balthazar comes to aide in the search. Sequel to 'The Third Apprentice' and Part II in the All The Right Moves series but can be read seperately.
1. Chapter 1

Lacy Steed was having what was arguably the best day in her life. Well, she actually counted the best day in her life as when she had been adopted, but she had been a little baby then. You couldn't remember anything at all when you were only a few weeks old, so she decided that her thirteenth birthday was simply the best day in her** memory**.

To start with her father had presented her with a new set of pastels. This had thrilled her; even with her father's money such expensive things had been very hard to find in that decade. Now that things were getting so much better she had been thrilled at the pastels, as well as the smooth paper. Lacy would've drawn something immediately but he had then given her something else; bright red hair ribbons.

It had all been too much and she'd rushed to hallway mirror to tie them in her golden ringlets. Her father had watched her from the doorway, smiling at how happy the ribbons made her. She turned her hair this way and that. Many people had told her if she didn't wear her thick coke bottle glasses, which she needed to see, then she'd resemble Shirley Temple quite a bit.

However, now that she had turned thirteen she was starting to think herself a little too grown up to be compared to Shirley Temple. So it was wonderful when her friends told her that her red ribbons resembled Judy Garland's in the movie. Her blue messenger bag that she had put her pastels and paper in was also compared to her, and she had smiled modestly.

This had brought her to yet another reason why it was so wonderful; her friends had surprised her with tickets to go see _The Wizard of Oz_. While she had enjoyed the movie greatly she couldn't help snickering under her breath at Glinda, mostly because she resembled her father's friend Bianca. She couldn't even begin to imagine Bianca wearing anything like that cotton candy garment.

The cartoons had been pretty good beforehand too, even if she had missed some to go get popcorn. At the last minute her friends had cautioned her not to eat too much though. The soda fountain that they ushered her to after the movie was her explanation, and that's when they gave her their gift; a beautiful bracelet that they had all pitched in for.

She had blushed and smiled when Robin had put it on her. Despite being a year older he had smiled back. She was sincerely flattered by this, and her friend Jessica had whispered that the bracelet had been his idea. This had made her blush a little more, which from Jessica's smug look meant that she would be getting teased for it later.

After that she had thanked her friends profusely for getting it for her until Rosamund and William came to fetch her. She saw the car outside of the window and regretfully got up and bid her friends farewell. Instead of saying it back they saw her to the door of the car, making sure to remind her that they had choir practice on Monday. The competitions were coming up, and she did enjoy it.

"Thanks for being inconspicuous back there," Lacy said, getting into the back seat of the Cadillac.

"Why Lacy," admonished Rosamund, grinning, "We weren't there at all."

"No need to pretend you weren't the usher to the theater and an assistant at the soda fountain," shrugged Lacy, getting her paper and pastels out of her messenger bag, "You've been around doing these things since I was six. I'm used to it."

Rosamund smiled at her and she saw William grin from the driver's seat. Lacy started to settle herself down comfortably in the back and shuffle through her gifts. One by one she showed them off to Rosamund, who busied herself retying Lacy's hair ribbons. Then William turned a left and onto a side road.

.

.

.

Balthazar surveyed the wreckage of the Cadillac out of the corner of his eye as he finished his circle. It had been hit from the rear first if he was any judge of it. After that the left side had been hit, but whoever had been inside had gotten a shield up first. A door was open, and then the whole thing was crushed almost as flat as a piece of paper.

That was the order of events as far as he could figure. At least the bodies of Rosamund Curtis and William Jenkins, Lacy's bodyguards, had been removed before he arrived. Two had seemed excessive to him, especially since they had been powerful from what he had been told. There had also been several known Morganian bodies removed, which seemed odd since there were so many of them.

Still, he was in no position to say for sure. Anything else that happened was to be determined by the rather lengthy spell that he was drawing up now. Well, he had drawn up about half of it. The rest had been done by the six people standing awkwardly and worriedly around him. Several had put up wards on the area, anxious to seal it off from prying eyes. Many talked in hushed whispers, but only two were completely silent.

One was a boy who he judged to be about fourteen. He was standing somewhat away from the rest, his arms folded tightly across his chest. His head was tilted to the ground, looking ashamed. A woman stood next to him, possibly his sister, muttering things. Balthazar didn't know what that was about, but he had the feeling that he was going to find out soon.

The other silent member was watching Balthazar's work to make sure that it matched his own. John Steed was a Merlinian of considerable power, but a spell that was used to reconstruct an event of this size required someone who was much higher than a sorcerer of the six-hundredth degree. His fists were clenched and his eyes that spoke volumes about what he was going to do whenever he caught who was responsible. Every now they flickered to the young boy before returning to Balthazar's work.

John Steed was what could reasonably be defined as a friend, which was probably stretching the definition of the word. Ally was probably a good deal more accurate, or perhaps a friendly mutual understanding. John and Balthazar both had the kind of aura around them which pushed almost all others to a good arm's length.

To the best of his knowledge John was part of what was being called 'The Lost Generation'. He and his older brother, after that said brother had lost his magic in a freak electrical accident, had hopped a boat to Europe and volunteered to fight in the Great War. It had been against their father's wishes, and both soon found out why.

The knowledge that Merlinians weren't supposed to show their magic in front of mortals was restrictive. Few had been the times when John had been able to use healing spells to save the lives of his friends in the trenches, or to shield their area from shrapnel. There was also the pounding barrage which it would've taken a man made of metal to have a clear mind. Of course, no spell probably would've been able to prevent his brother getting shot in the head next to him.

When John had finally returned home, battered and suffering a lack of faith in humanity, he found that his father and mother had died only weeks before his return in a car crash. So, at the age of twenty-two in 1918 John Steed found himself drifting and in possession of a good deal of money. Searching for a purpose he had thrown himself into magic. Soon he found himself fighting to keep the Merlinians in Manhattan organized against a rising Morganian group who wished the city to become their kind of town in every sense of the phrase.

Through sheer force of personality he managed to stamp the group down until there was very little that remained of it. He had a hand in the building of the Chrysler building, putting wards into its very foundations and making it a base for Merlinians. It was about this time that Balthazar had first come into his acquaintance, the situation in New York had been very dire after all. He had also formed the opinion that he should watch the man.

John had only been about two steps away from being a Morganian at the best of times. A man like that needed a reason to live so he didn't take those final steps. For Balthazar it was the dragon in his right pocket and the doll locked up safely in his hotel room, or more precisely of the woman who was in it. However, John hadn't seemed to have a reason.

That is, and this was a secondhand version, until the winter of 1926. John had gone to find one of his co-workers at a shelter where they were volunteering, only to find something else entirely. He had reached over a small bassinet to get something on the shelf behind it, and felt a hand curl around the hem of his coat. John had looked down at the bright blue eyes of a small girl, born a few weeks before to a nameless mother who had died during the delivery.

Only a week later the adoption papers had been filled out with the girl being given the name Lacy Rebecca Steed. Five years later Balthazar had come back to the city and found himself summoned by John by telegraph. Somewhat surprised that anyone had even known that he was back he had duly answered the summons.

John had said little that didn't have to do with quashing the remaining factions of Morganians in the city. At one point though a sleepy blonde child had wandered into the room and he had smiled before scooping her up and excusing himself to tuck her in. He'd asked John a few more questions when he came back, and had been more than satisfied that he wasn't going to have to be dealing with another Morganian traitor.

That was the last he had heard of him, besides that morning when he had received another telegraph saying that his daughter was missing under suspicious circumstances. He would've been surprised that the man knew he was there, but he doubted that anything happened in the city that John didn't know about. Finishing the spell he walked by the man in question. The other sorcerers, seeing that it was go time, quickly took up their positions. In a few bursts of light the area became slightly fuzzy.

The Cadillac, in mint condition, turned a left into the side street. A figure stepped out from the sidewalk and blasted it with a plasma bolt from the rear. The car flipped over from the impact but whoever was inside managed to slow its motion so it landed on the wheels, but it banged into the wall. William and Rosamund quickly got out, dragging who he could only guess was Lacy behind them. Another man came from another side of the street and pushed down on the air, but missed so that it was the car that was damaged again.

Rosamund threw herself over Lacy and erected a shield. William had taken off his chauffer's cap and was furiously casting spells at the two men. They both went down easily enough and he leaned over, panting slightly. A spell hit William from the side, cast by an unknown sorcerer. Blood spurted into the air and William crumpled.

Lacy screamed and he felt John tense beside him. Rosamund picked Lacy up like she was a doll and started running, keeping her shield up. A vine was conjured from the pavement beneath her and wrapped itself around her ankle. She threw Lacy from her as it snaked up her leg. She started to cast a few spells to combat it before screaming out;

"Lacy, get out of here!"

The young girl hesitated for a moment. Rosamund thrust out with her magic, giving her a good push. After that Lacy needed no encouragement and took off at a breakneck pace. For such a delicate looking girl she could run quite fast. Balthazar winced as he saw the vine that had been holding Rosamund go down her throat and burst out of her stomach. He actually heard a retching noise from the younger boy and a few of the others assembled.

Turning on his heel John went and followed after Lacy's shadowy form. Balthazar followed too, trying to make sure that John didn't outstrip the magic. The girl ran into a nearby warehouse and they followed. She shut the door and leaned up against it, tears running down her cheeks and looking terrified.

That's when he saw it. A golden light started to turn in her eyes a little.

"So that's how a Seer has visions?" asked Balthazar, who had never seen it before.

"Most of the time," John said shortly, "Sometime she has a fit too."

Lacy knelt down and opened her messenger bag. Pastels and paper came flying out of it and she started to frantically scribble.

"She draws her visions?" Balthazar asked.

"Says it's easier than writing them down," answered John quietly, "She knew she wasn't going to be able to get home. That's the only reason she'd stop like this."

She tilted her head up and Balthazar had the feeling that she was looking at them, the gold still coming from her eyes. It was only compounded when she said;

"Papa…I…"

John clenched his fist as Lacy's shadow walked up to him. Balthazar looked away when her shadow hugged the spot where her father would be standing in a few hours. Then her footsteps echoed away and she picked up her messenger bag again, putting the piece of paper on a shelf. Then she took a deep breath and ran out the back door. Blue light poured from the outside and her scream was the last thing they heard before the magic faded.

Giving a small moan John put a hand on his forehead. Deciding not to waste any more time Balthazar went over to where she had laid her paper. He sucked in a breath and then glared back at John.

"What are you hiding?" he snapped.

"What do you mean?" John asked, looking up.

"Two bodyguards," Balthazar said, "Normally I'd dismiss it as over-protective, but you thought she'd need them."

"What are you getting at?" snapped John.

"Even as your daughter, and you've got plenty of enemies, and a Seer Lacy would need to be something considerably more important to attract **his** attention."

He straightened out the picture and showed it to John. It portrayed a man standing in the alleyway behind the warehouse, brandishing a glowing blue cane and wearing a coat trimmed in fur. Horvath.


	2. Chapter 2

"First thing you have to understand," John said as they walked over to the rest of the group, "is that anything I've done I did for her protection."

"And you've done such a wonderful job so far," Balthazar couldn't resist saying.

John glared at him but only said;

"You wouldn't understand. When she was four years old a man came to my house with a chest left to him by his father, a Seer."

He sighed.

"You're going to get pissed at me," he said, "But it had a lot of information in there that I thought should be secret. It was a collection of seven Arcanum about **her **upcoming Arcana."

"World changing prophesies about a world changing prophecy," Balthazar said slowly, "Yes, this sounds important. And yes, you should've told me. Still…why would I be…?"

John gave a bitter smile.

"No, the part when you get pissed is now," he said, "Because apparently the Arcanum pointed to one conclusion, and quite honestly I never liked it. You know that theory about how history repeats itself, things go in cycles?"

"I've heard of it."

"It's got a hell of a point," sighed John, "From everything the Arcanum said, it would appear that Lacy's the next Vivienne."

It took only seconds for Balthazar to process this.

"Vivienne," he said tightly, "as in the Seer who had her Arcana about Merlin, predicted his coming. Which would, in theory, make Lacy the one to predict when…"

His voice trailed off threateningly. John had apparently been anticipating the sorcerer's anger and began;

"In my defense-"

"No," snapped Balthazar, "No defense for this. When exactly were you going to tell me your daughter can predict where the hell I need to be when the one person I've been looking for over a millennia can be found? Bastard! If circumstances were different I'd lay you out right here."

Sighing again John shook his head.

"The less people who knew about this the better," he said, "I wouldn't have bet a penny on Lacy's safety if it got out who she was. **She **doesn't even know. Thinks the bodyguards are because of what **I **do. Hah!"

He kicked the ground as he got nearer to the car and group of Merlinians they had left behind.

"Her Arcana is soon, all the other ones say that," he said, "Believe me, I've devoted a considerable amount of energy into decoding them. They said it should be shortly after her thirteenth birthday, and she turned thirteen today. Her eyesight's been getting worse lately, phasing her out for the sight she'll lose after the Arcana. I can only guess that her Arcana is what Horvath's after. So hate me later please."

Balthazar glared at him. As he had said to him; if things were different John's status as an ally-friend would have offered him little protection. However, things weren't different. A child was currently being held by a man whose moral compass probably pointed more south than south. So instead he said;

"Deal. And I owe you a good solid punch when this is over."

"Deal," John replied without a moment's hesitation.

.

.

.

"No."

"I do beg your pardon?"

Lacy gulped and watched the glowing blue cane top come near her face. It had come in contact with her a few times on the way up for screaming, calling him names, and other things. Sometimes she had a feeling he was doing it more out of habit than anything, and that was more than just a little worrying. To make things short she knew just how much it hurt. The scars on her arms and legs were clear testaments to that.

"It doesn't work like that," she said, wishing that she could stop the tears that were streaming down her face so she could look braver.

"Child," Horvath said politely but quite sharply, "I have been alive a good deal longer than your pitiful existence and I must say that I know a good deal more about how it works than you do."

"I can't do it at will!" she snapped.

The cane flared and fire wrapped around it before it hit her face, where it was sure to leave a mark. She repressed the scream of pain and clenched the sides of the chair she was sitting on tighter.

"I can tell a liar when I see one and that would've been much more painful if you'd actually told a straight lie. Now you're telling the truth, at least to some extent," Horvath said, withdrawing the cane and putting the fire out, "You can do it when you concentrate, and you're going to have to concentrate a good deal."

He smiled at her and she shrunk back. A smile like that couldn't mean anything good for her.

"But I'm not unreasonable," he said, withdrawing a vial filled with silver liquid from his pocket, "I did bring you some help."

She felt her head thrown backwards by a strong force. The same thing happened to her eyelids, opening them up so wide that they hurt. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't move her head away, and her struggling arms were pinned by her side. Then Horvath took her glasses off and tossed them against the wall. There was a tinkle of breaking glass as he unstopped the bottle and poured the shining silver material into her eyes. This time though, she couldn't bite back the scream.

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.

.

"What happened?" asked the woman standing next to the moody boy, placing her hands on her hips, "We would've come too, but **someone** needed to maintain the groundwork."

"Horvath took her," John said irritably.

There was a ripple of noise from the assembled group. Everyone knew who that was. They probably told their children stories about him in order to frighten them from misbehavior. The boy looked up sharply before slumping again.

"We're lucky Balthazar is here," one of them muttered.

"Very," John said before turning to him, "Do you know how to find him?"

"Horvath? No clue right now," Balthazar said, scratching his unshaved chin thoughtfully, "He's not very patient though. He'll most likely want Lacy to have her Arcana the minute he gets her. Any way he could do that?"

"Not…immediately," replied John darkly.

"He wants her Arcana?" asked the boy, looking up.

John shot him a look that would have snakes running for cover.

"As well as her scrying skills, but I think the Arcana comes first," he snapped, "Or are you having trouble following along with the rest of the class Robin?"

Robin looked away. The woman standing next to him quickly said angrily;

"It wasn't his fault!"

"Of course not," said John sarcastically, "And apparently he needs his cousin to fight all his battles for him."

Furious now the woman opened her mouth. Robin held out a hand.

"Let it go Bianca."

Bianca did as she was bid, but cast a furious look at John. Balthazar raised his eyebrows at this display. John didn't seem to care as he motioned to the cars.

"Everyone get in," he said, "There's someone I need to talk to."

He got into his car with John following behind him.

"Just follow my instructions," John said.

Balthazar glanced at him but did as he was bid. After about an hour, traffic was still bad in New York despite the declining depression, they came across a small dingy shop. Without waiting for the car to stop John got out. Balthazar parked the car before doing the same. Looking over his shoulder he saw that everyone else was remaining in their cars.

"Aren't we going to need back-up?' he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the cars.

John shook his head.

"He's not a threat. And they know better than to come in here," John said, opening the door.

A small bell rang as they were admitted into a shop that smelt like rotten eggs. Balthazar wrinkled his nose as a middle-aged man came to the counter. He paled when he saw John and licked his lips nervously.

"Hello Mr. Steed," he said, "What…brings you to my establishment?"

While Balthazar believed that calling that place an establishment was doing the word a disservice he could tell that the man was hiding something. It wasn't as though he was doing a good job of concealing it in any case.

"Kent," said John brusquely, "Sell any magical quicksilver lately?"

"No," he said, a little too quickly, "You know I don't deal in that sort of stuff anymore."

There was a pause. This man was actually **easier** to read than a book. Without another word John launched himself forward and grabbed the man by his collar. Kent tried to struggle away but John was obviously the stronger of the two. He shoved his head down on the table with a bang and snarled;

"Who to?"

"I haven't-" Kent whined.

"WHO!"

"Take it easy John," Balthazar said, wondering if perhaps he should put the man back on his watch list for potential Morganians.

John looked back up at him and curled his lip in a sneer.

"Do you know what quicksilver does to Seers?" he asked.

"I only know about Seers in a basic context," Balthazar said, feeling like he should know more under the intensity of his glare, "Not the details. They're not very common."

"As soon as I found out about Lacy I found out everything I could," John said condescendingly, "And some people found out that when you pour enchanted quicksilver into a Seer's eyes it makes them see their visions faster, more precise and with more clarity, hurries things along."

He slammed the man's head into the table again. With every sentence he banged the man's head again to punctuate his words.

"But it has drawbacks, destroys their immune systems, gives them a sense of paranoia, cripples sinuses and worse, it can get to be rather addictive and lead to brain damage," he said, "And this scum whom I've caught trafficking dangerous magical artifacts in the past and only got off because he swore he wouldn't do it any more, this piece of filth who knows full well that my thirteen-year old daughter is the only Seer in New York and I would never buy some for her has probably sold some of it to Horvath. Believe me when I say that I am just barely controlling myself."

Balthazar's desire to help Kent vanished.

"Knock yourself out."

"Now then," murmured John angrily, "Name."

"S…ss…someone called Brutus Williams," he said.

John turned to Balthazar.

"One of his pseudonyms," he said bitterly, "He thinks it's **funny**."

"Do you have an address?" demanded John.

"He…he just came into the shop-"

He slammed Kent's head against the table again.

"This stuff takes awhile to mix and I doubt he'd want to be caught in this dump," John snapped, "He'd probably want you to deliver it to him."

"He'll kill me if I tell you-"

"Sad song you're singing there," snarled John, "So he might kill you if you tell. On the other hand, I'll kill you if you **don't **tell me. And I'll be worse than him; his daughter isn't missing."

Kent licked his lips again. Five minutes later they walked out of the shop with the address and several of Kent's teeth. Without another word they got back into the car and took off. The other cars followed theirs and John read the small scrap of greasy paper that the man had hastily scrawled it out on.

"Hotel Belleclaire," John read out, "I know that place. Expensive but rather nice."

"Where?" asked Balthazar.

"250 West 77th Street at Broadway," answered John.

"I'm on it."

_**A/N: **__Heads up to anyone who gets the Shakespeare reference. _


	3. Chapter 3

Horvath sat on his chair, his head on his hands, and watched Lacy with interest. She was trembling violently and her eyes were glassy. Her nose had been bleeding a while ago, but it had long since stopped. Every now and then she let out a small moan. Other than that though, she was getting the job done, or at least a precursor to the job.

Shortly after giving her the quicksilver, and once she had stopped screaming, she'd ripped into her messenger bag. Paper and pastels had poured out, and she'd started to draw at an almost frantic pace. He supposed that it was the quicksilver that made her act like that; there wasn't any other good reason for her to be drawing so much that her fingers would start to bleed. The blood had mixed with the pastels, covering her fingers with a thick, dark paste.

He leaned forward and picked up one of the pictures she had drawn. She had been doing so many that it was hard to keep track of them all. This one portrayed the flags of Russia, America, and England twisted together. He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but the numbers, or year, '1942' was printed above it. Horvath filed the information away just as he heard a slight clicking noise.

Looking up he saw that Lacy had put her pastel down and stopped drawing. She looked suddenly somewhat alert, and extremely aghast at all of the pictures she'd drawn. Without another word she grabbed a few sheets of paper what he supposed was blank paper, hugged them tightly to her chest, and moved back until she was huddled in a corner. Rolling his eyes he got up.

"You can take a rest for now," he said, waving his cane vaguely, "We'll try again with the quicksilver in another few hours."

She looked at him in horror and clutched the paper tighter. He rolled his eyes again before leaving. Once the door shut Lacy went through the 'blank' sheets of paper frantically. He couldn't have seen these two, he couldn't have or she would've been in much, much more pain than she was now.

Finally she got out the two drawings. One disturbed her; it showed two people on top of the Chrysler building. She could remember some of the vision vaguely, and that was why it disturbed her so much, as well as the rather intense undertones. Two men were standing there, one she recognized as Horvath and another man she didn't recognize very well. Horvath was standing in it. The other…man was…well…

Shaking her head she folded it and tucked it deep within her pocket. He couldn't see this; she didn't want Horvath to have any sort of advantage during his fight. Of course, perhaps he wouldn't need it. It looked like it was a pretty forgone conclusion, but Lacy knew quite a bit about how her visions worked, so there was still a chance.

Lacy looked at the other drawing and frowned at it. This vision she could remember with more clarity. She knew of those in it, and their importance, but it definitely wasn't her Arcana. She would've known if it was, and it hadn't felt any different from a normal vision. Still, Horvath would hurt her if he saw it. Lacy knew that like she knew that the sky was blue.

Tucking it in with the first one she looked down at her nails. He hadn't noticed, not yet. Lacy couldn't hide it for much longer, even with the protective covering provided by the pastel dust. Curling her fingers inwards and into fists she rested her chin on her knees. She was starting to feel-lightheaded, making it hard to concentrate on what she was doing. Lacy started shaking uncontrollably but she didn't know what was causing it; the quicksilver or fear.

.

.

.

"How are we going to approach this?"

Balthazar looked over at the assembled Merlinians. He had just tentatively started to prod the Belleclaire's defenses. While he could say much about Horvath there was one thing he couldn't deny; he was extremely thorough. Sighing looked over at the woman who had addressed him, whom he vaguely remembered as Valentina Preston. Her husband was standing next to her, as well as their eldest son.

"**We're** not going to do anything," he said, "And **I'm** figuring out what **I'm** going to do at the moment."

"You're going in alone?" demanded John.

"Yes," Balthazar said shortly, "Horvath who, among other things, is a sorcerer of the seven-hundredth and seventy-seventh degree. Six-hundred is not going to cut it here. Not to mention he might have some of your dispossessed locals working for him. If not properly worked, the wards will most likely cause a magical explosion that would alert him we're here and create far more problems than we need. The fewer we are; the smaller the invasion, the better the chance."

Many of the sorcerers started to look more than a little angry at being left out of their own rescue mission. He didn't blame them. Lacy was one of their own. None of them would say a word though; too many had been brought up to respect the power that Balthazar represented. John's fists clenched briefly before he breathed out deeply.

"You can get her if you do things your way?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Balthazar without any hesitation.

John nodded, although his fists remained clenched.

"Anything you need at all?" he asked.

"Well," Balthazar said, trying to ignore the dirty looks that were being shot in his direction, "the safest place I can take her after this would be the Chrysler building, correct?"

"Right."

"If you could be strengthening the wards then that would be good," he said thoughtfully, "And I'd need a healer on standby in case something…happens."

Balthazar observed John's eyebrow twitch slightly.

"Who's the best at that here?" he asked.

He watched as all eyes started to shift towards Robin. Bianca shoved him forward, although the boy continued to look at the ground. Balthazar was starting to wonder where all of his humility was coming from.

"Me sir," he murmured.

"Yes, it would be Robin," John said, "He's good at healing spells, never seen someone whip up a potion as fast at him. I've never seen anyone cast plasma bolts as atrocious as him either though. God-awful."

Ah, so **that's **where it came from.

"Mr. Steed, I'd appreciate it if you'd shut the hell up," Bianca snapped.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd learn your place," he snapped back, "Robin, get in the back of Balthazar's car. Just in case you are needed then you can go and try to make yourself useful."

Robin looked up and glared darkly at him, but turned around. Balthazar watched him go for a minute and gestured to John.

"Can I talk to you in private for a minute?"

Without a word they walked until they were some distance away from the rest of the group. Once they were he asked;

"What's going on?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"Is he your apprentice or something? Some sort of disappointment to the Great John Steed?"

There was a tense silence.

"Not exactly," snorted John after a while, "His master died two years ago, natural causes. I'm just trying to finish up his education."

"So why so hard on him?" he asked.

"Don't know why you need to know."

"My life might depend on him having his act together in a few minutes," he said, "And we both know Horvath probably didn't ask Lacy nicely to take the quicksilver. I'd be surprised if she **didn't** need a healer once I get her out."

There was a slight pause.

"He's known Lacy since she was eight. Our circle isn't exactly big after all. He was with her a few minutes before it happened," he said, obviously angry at having to answer the question, "Went with her and some friends to the pictures. He was the last one to find out, and he should've been the first."

"Yeah, but unlike his cousin there I'm not getting a 'strong magic' feeling from him," Balthazar said, "Like you told me, no real talent at offensive spells. I can't see what he could've done except bandage Horvath to death."

John snorted.

"And he's a friend of hers," Balthazar said, "So I don't see why you have to act like this to a boy who…"

Realization dawned.

"Oh please don't tell me-" he moaned.

"Yes, yes he has a crush on my daughter," snapped John.

"Lord in heaven," muttered Balthazar, "She like him back?"

"…yes."

"Well that makes it **that **much worse," he said, "Any other objections to him?"

"It's like you said," John said, waving his hands around wildly, "He's weak. If this is what happens now when I've got the best there is protecting her, what about when she's with him?"

"You're thinking a little far ahead there. You're acting like they're going to get married or something!" Balthazar said, aghast.

There was a pregnant silence.

"No shit?"

"She drew it about two years ago, an either or prophecy," he said, "She was older in it, probably around twenty. He was wearing a military uniform, although I can't imagine why. I took it from her before she could see it though; it wasn't the type that she remembers. Not good for her to know too much about her own future."

Part of him wondered if all fathers were this protective of their daughters. Briefly he was reminded of Merlin's eye-rolling when he and Veronica started out together. Merlin was, since Veronica's father had died when she was nine, the closest thing she had had to one and acted accordingly. It didn't stop with the eye-rolling though. There had been extra chores and slightly more sadistic lessons. He had thought that **that **was bad. Now he saw that that was nothing.

"An either or prophecy?" asked Balthazar, feeling that he shouldn't be getting mixed up in it.

"A black line around it," he said, "It means it'll happen or someone in the prophecy will die beforehand. Either or."

He took in Balthazar's shocked expression.

"I've learned a lot since she started her prophecies," he answered, "Different colored flux lines mean different things. That's the advantage to her drawing visions instead of writing them out."

John stopped and rubbed his hands together.

"As much as I don't think he's good for her," he said, "I wouldn't want either of them to die to prevent it."

Turning he faced Balthazar.

"You're not a particularly moral man, and before you say anything I'm not either," he said, "So I know you'll understand what I'll say next."

Swallowing air he looked at him as though he expected him to deny it. Balthazar had lived too many centuries to believe that he was perfect. He'd done too many things to survive and killed far too many people that sometimes he wondered if he even deserved the term Merlinian attached to him. Seeing that he wasn't going to interrupt John went on;

"I've fought in two different wars and I haven't felt the better for either of them. My brother died next to me and my parents died thinking I hated them. People have done things, both Merlinian and Morganian, in front of me that shouldn't be done. I've found that in the end people don't have the morals that they're supposed to have, that **I **don't have the morals I'm supposed to have. Human goodness is generally just a phrase used because we don't want to believe that we're horrible people. These things show; leave a mark on you that everyone can see."

He stared defiantly at Balthazar and said;

"And knowing this I went on a simple errand thirteen years ago. And she just gripped my coat and looked at me with wide eyes. If the world can still produce children that innocent, then I know there's something good left. Lacy's the reason I can still manage to drag myself out of bed in the morning. My daughter, the best thing I've got in my life."

Folding his arms across his chest he sighed.

"I'm not a moral man and neither are you," he said again, "But we're both** good** men when it comes down to it. That's the only reason I trust you to save her. I'm telling you this so that you understand what exactly I'm letting you do."

He fixed Balthazar with his glare again.

"And if you screw this up, seven-hundredth and seventy-seventh degree or not-"

"Then I'd probably deserve to die," Balthazar finished for him, "I quite think I understand."

"Good," nodded John.


	4. Chapter 4

When all of the New York Merlinians had left for the Chrysler building Balthazar had walked up to his car. Robin sat sullenly with his arms folded inside and looked at him as he approached. The window was half-rolled down and Balthazar leaned inside of it so he could better talk to the boy.

"Robin right?" he said.

"Yes sir."

"Balthazar Blake," he said, although he knew by this point he needed no introduction.

"Incantus said Blakeson," Robin blurted.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow and Robin looked embarrassed.

"Blake's easier on the tongue," Balthazar said, wondering just how bold this boy got when John wasn't around to scare him, "But look, you're going to have to hide for a while. Some people might be down here soon and if they find a kid sitting alone in a car, that's going to be pretty suspicious."

"I can drive if that helps," Robin said.

"Nah, she's kinda temperamental," he said, patting the side of the car affectionately, "Besides, Lacy's going to need some help when I get her out."

Robin swallowed.

"Do you think…she'll be hurt bad?" he asked.

Balthazar shrugged and Robin's eyes narrowed.

"Don't lie to me," he said, "I'm only fourteen but I'm not stupid."

For a minute he was tempted to take the dragon out of his pocket. However, the boy had already started his training so he'd most likely just be wasting his time.

"Most likely," he said, "Horvath…I wouldn't put anything past him. She's John's girl, so I don't think she'd feel much like cooperating with an infamous Morganian. And if he's actually managed to kick-start her Arcana, that'll raise some bad issues. From what I've read about Seers…Arcanum can be bad."

"I heard they kill sometimes," Robin said blankly.

He was tempted to lie, but decided against it from the boy's earlier reaction.

"Seers technically are dead when they have their Arcanum," he said, "It was painful for my Master to talk about these things for personal reasons, but they essentially die and time flows through them and essentially borrows their bodies. It does that to some extent when they have visions, that's why Seers sometimes don't remember them. In theory the time leaves when it does and the soul goes back to inhabiting the body."

He winced inwardly at his words. No, there was no way to delicately put this, but he probably could have done better. Well, from the horrified look on Robin's face the boy thought so too.

"Now, to be frank sometimes they don't come back," he finished, "and rushing Arcanum does sound like it probably increases the risk of that happening."

Robin nodded, his jaw clenched.

"Look, it's a bad situation," Balthazar said uncomfortably, "Some Arcana are short and swift and some are long, drawn out, and painful. I think this is going to be the latter of the two. But we're going to do the best we can to prevent that and I need your help. I'm not very good in the healing department so it's going to be on you to try and help her. Got it?"

Nodding again Robin lowered himself underneath the seats. Balthazar stepped away from the car and to the side of the hotel. He could get through the wards easily enough, but he didn't think it would be a good idea to let Horvath know that he was involved just yet. Hating himself for what he was about to do he rubbed his face with his hands. When he was done he looked at himself in the glass window. It had worked; Balthazar looked in his reflection, and John Steed looked back.

He hoped that there would be some way to tell Lacy that he wasn't her father before she got too excited. Shoving the thought to the back of his mind he opened the door, straining against the wards. However, he pushed through and made his way through the assembled guest in the main room.

Walking up to the front desk he said smilingly with his ring glowing;

"Brutus Williams' room?"

The desk clerk's eyes glazed over as he said;

"132."

"Is he in?"

"Yes."

He waved his hand again and the clerk's eyes lost their glaze. Normally he hated to daze people, but this was a special circumstance. At least he knew that Horvath was in, and now he knew that he needed to do something to get him out of the room. Balthazar thought about it as he bolted up the stairs, two at a time.

Upon reaching the appropriate floor he looked out a hallway window at the street below him. He didn't like what he was about to do any more than dazing the clerk or wearing the face of the girl's father but John had put it best; he wasn't particularly moralistic. Reaching out his hand he prodded the wards as ineptly as he could.

As a result the street lights exploded into blue beams of electricity. He was glad that he had parked his beloved car out of the way; these things zapped the trees bare. Water hydrants exploded, turning the entire ground outside into a death trap. Seconds later he heard a door open and Balthazar flattened himself up against the wall.

Three men and one woman hurried downstairs. Balthazar didn't pay any of them any attention, it was only when Horvath went past that he felt his hand clench into a fist. He could kill him right here and now, it would serve him right. However, just like all the times before when he felt that he was finally capable of killing him, he remembered an odd little random memory. This time it was stealing mince meat pies during the Twelfth Night celebrations.

When the memory disappeared Horvath was gone. Cursing himself for his inability to block the memories out of his mind even after all this time he hurried to room 132. With great care he magically wore down the wards and stepped inside. He hadn't expected it to be empty; Horvath always had a contingency plan. However, the two sorcerers that they had left behind hadn't actually expected anyone to come in. He dealt with them quickly and looked at the room critically.

It was a luxury suite, but there wasn't any sign of Lacy. He wished that he had thought ahead to ask John for something of hers, that would make finding her so much easier. Instead he had only a very limited amount of time to search the place and get her out. Balthazar was just wondering where to start when he heard a small knocking sound.

Turning around he faced a small coat closet. He looked at it in disbelief. Surely not even Horvath would put a child in there? When he drew near it though he heard the knocking increase in volume and felt the wards that reinforced it. Gritting his teeth he shoved the wards away and opened the door.

The space had been magically enhanced, but just enough to accommodate her and perhaps one other person. Lacy stood in front of him, her messenger bag over her shoulder and ankle-deep in drawings that had been ripped to shreds. Broken glasses obscured her eyes, and hands were covered with colored dust. One of them was raised where it had been knocking on the door, and she blinked owlishly at him.

"Look," he said, "I'm not your father. I'm-"

"Lord Balthazar Blakeson," she said in a rush as her eyes glowed gold, "Fourth Earl of Lincolnshire, son of Alexander and Matilda Blakeson, second Apprentice of Merlin, Keeper of the Grimhold, Searcher for the Prime Merlinian, Sorcerer of the seven-hundredth and seventy-seventh degree-"

She stopped abruptly and threw up on the ground, coughing and splutterin. He jerked backwards, just barely managing to get his shoes out of the way in time. One of her hands touched the side of her head as she raised her head to face him.

"I'm sorry," she said, "Everything's…mingling right now…sometimes the visions come in too much detail…hurts my stomach…"

Lacy blinked once more and took a deep breath.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd burn all the drawings I left behind," she said, gesturing to the scraps of paper, "I knew you were coming so I ripped them up but if he puts them back together…"

He nodded mutely. It had been a very long time since anyone had called him the Earl of Lincolnshire, or mentioned his parent's names, and it was unnerving. Taking her hand he gently let her out and into the lighted room. Cuts criss-crossed her legs and arms, and a rather nasty welt was forming on her cheek. Her eyes were blood shot and the veins popped out around them and glowed silver. Her footsteps were uncertain and he suppressed a curse of disgust at his former friend.

"I'm sorry about…the…the…mess. And…you see…well it's…" she said, wiping her fingers on her dress and holding out her hand, "It's my nails."

With a growing sense of dread he looked at them and had to prevent himself from cursing again. They were a golden color, a natural gold not caused by paint. Her cells were being replaced with time-infused golden ones, a sure sign that her Arcana was drawing near. Balthazar looked up at her and she nodded.

"I don't think he knows about this," she said.

"Did you throw up in front of him?" he asked, "That would be a pretty good sign."

"No," she said, "Swallowed it instead. That's why I couldn't stop I this time. I'm still feeling a little funny, but I think you already know that."

He raised his eyebrows. Now there was some determination. Setting fire to the pictures he turned towards the window and opened it. The drop wasn't bad, but worryingly enough the Morganians who had rushed down there were now nowhere to be seen. He turned back to Lacy to tell her that they should get going and saw the dark figure behind her.

He threw out his hand just as Horvath grabbed Lacy around the neck. She shrieked and was picked up off her feet. The other hand was clapped over her mouth.

"She's very noisy, and I wouldn't want any of the neighbors thinking anything unsavory. You're much more powerful than I thought Steed," Horvath said conversationally, "But I'm thinking you're getting some help. Still, if you come without a fight then I'll be sure to make your death quick. Besides, there's no way to get to me without hurting your precious little Lacy."

Balthazar had to repress another curse, this time for an entirely different reason than before. He couldn't let Horvath hear his voice. He'd know then, and Balthazar had been in too much of a hurry to change it to match John's. Besides, Horvath was right; he couldn't do a spell without hitting Lacy. Not to mention that Horvath's associates were probably on their way up at that moment.

Then, defying all logic; Lacy bit Horvath's hand. Horvath, Morgana's most loyal follower, the most terrifying dark sorcerer in the world, and she bit him. The next thing she did was even more shocking; an all-out struggle, flinging out her limbs in every way, scratching him with her nails like a caged animal. Letting go was probably Horvath's safest option, and Balthazar could see that he did it more out of surprise than pain.

Lacy shot across the room to Balthazar's side, grabbing the shoulder coat. Used to having to think fast he grabbed Lacy's arm tightly. He was glad that she seemed to understand what he was about to do, since she used her other hand to hold on. Then he shoved the two of them outside the window.

He had, through several painful experiences, gotten good at judging heights and knowing how to land after impact. A fall like this wouldn't break anything, and he was glad that Horvath had gotten a room on the first instead of the fourth floor. Still, he winced on impact and Lacy stumbled. He knew that she had probably twisted or sprained something or another, so for the sake of time he picked her up. It surprised him just how little she weighed. No wonder Rosamund had had such an easy time carrying her.

A plasma bolt shattered a nearby bench and he started running for the car. Several bystanders were looking at him with their mouths open, especially since he had just taken off John Steed's face. Part of him cringed under this blatant flaunting of the art, but he would have time to be low profile later. Wrenching the door to the Rolls Royce open he put Lacy, as gently as time would allow, in the back.

"Robin?" she asked as her friend ducked up from his hiding place.

"Are you all righ-?" started Robin before stopping, obviously realizing that it was a stupid question considering her state.

Slamming the door shut he flung open his own door and took off as fast as it would let him. He knew that his car had a top speed of around 87 miles per hour, probably the fastest model currently out. However, he had taken a few tips from some prohibition moonshine sellers and had tinkered with the engine both manually and magically. Now he was hell on wheels. He smirked when he imagined Horvath's face when he saw how fast his quarry had gotten way.


	5. Chapter 5

"Could you slow down or something!" Robin cried from the backseat, "We're not being followed anymore!"

"You do your job and I do mine," Balthazar said irritably.

His foot was still on the gas, despite the fact that there was a disturbing lack of followers.

"Well it's kind of hard to clear my mind when we keep jumping the curb every five minutes," Robin shot back.

Balthazar gritted his teeth and glared at the back seat. He was starting to wonder where the humble little boy had gone.

"I think I'm gonna be sick again," Lacy murmured.

Abruptly Balthazar took his foot off of the gas pedal. The change in speed was so sudden that the entire care lurched forward and Balthazar nearly hit the dashboard. In the back Robin collided with the front seat and made a groan of pain. Lacy, however, seemed not to have been affected by the sudden change in speed. Thank God for small mercies.

"Alright back there?" he asked.

"Robin blocked most of it," she said weakly.

He looked over at the boy in question who now had a bloody nose. Wiping away the blood from his upper lip with the back of his sweater he looked down at Lacy.

"I'm fine," he said, "Where's it hurt the most?"

Turning a corner he heard Lacy say;

"My eyes."

"Okay," he replied, "This may feel a little funny, but it'll be over soon."

Balthazar's fingers clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. It was a common phrase used by healers to soothe and reassure their patients. Still, he had memories of delicate hands caressing his arms and face, saying those words and healing bruises and scars there. It didn't help that Robin was speaking tenderly to her too, not quite able to keep the affection out of his voice.

There were simply too damn many memories that were too damn painful and too damn near the surface. He turned another corner, trying to keep his mind on the road and the way to the Chrysler building. Lacy made a small noise and Robin said;

"The silver's gone. What else hurts?"

"Ankle."

Balthazar grinned. He could practically **hear** Robin's blush.

"Uh, alright," gulped Robin, "If you could just-"

"Ow!"

"Sorry, sorry, didn't know it was so sore!"

"It's…it's okay…"

"You're crying…aren't you?" asked Robin.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed, "Just, there's a lot going on and it did hurt a lot. I'm feeling stupid right now so I'd appreciate it if you didn't rub it in."

"At least use my handkerchief."

There was a slight pause.

"Uh, Mr. Blake?" asked Robin.

"So we're back to Mr. Blake then?" asked Balthazar, "Whatever happened to 'you'?"

"Um…well…is she supposed to be crying gold?"

He had to stop himself from slamming on the brakes again.

"I'm crying gold!" Lacy exclaimed.

"Just a little," Robin said.

Slowly Balthazar looked at her with his review mirror. Indeed, she was crying gold.

"I'm guessing this isn't good?" ventured Lacy.

"You're father didn't tell you about this?" he asked, incredulous, "You knew about the nails but you didn't know about this?"

"He just told me to come to him immediately if my nails turned gold," she said, "Told me it meant I'd be having my Arcana and I should probably rest with his supervision-"

"Your nails are gold?" Robin said, entirely out of the loop, "What does that mean?"

"Well crying gold is just another sign that you're Arcana's approaching," Balthazar said, "But even I know that means you've probably got an hour left, probably closer to forty minutes, until it happens."

"Can we get to-?" started Robin.

"We don't have time to get to the Chrysler building now, not on these streets anyway. Too crowded," he said, wondering how many curses he was going to have to suppress due to the company of minors, "Not normally anyway."

"So where are we going to go to?" asked Robin.

Balthazar sighed.

"My place."

.

.

.

John stared out of the window on the top floor of the Chrysler building, brooding.

"They should be here by now," he muttered.

"Have a little faith," Mr. Preston reassured, "He's the most powerful Merlinian in history. And yes, he might not have much knowledge of the local area, but Robin does. He's a born and bred New Yorker. His grandfather was mayor even."

John shot Mr. Preston a look which made the man go silent. In the past few hours he had summoned more than just the core group of Merlinians. There were at least sixteen in the building now, mostly on the lower levels. Normally he would feel that the situation was well in hand, but Lacy had never been factored into a situation before.

Whenever there had been a battle at hand he had all but locked her in the Chrysler building under the guard of William and Rosamund. She had come to know the place well and he knew that if there was any place that she would be safe it would be there. Still, she wasn't there yet and he had no way of receiving word if everything had gone well.

"You should trust Robin more," Bianca said, leaning against a wall and exhaling a cigarette, "He trusts you, respects you even. God knows why."

"Ms. Lawrence you have been getting on my nerves repeatedly about a boy who's none of your business," he snapped at her, "Don't you have wards to check or something?"

"Checked 'em," she said, her eyes studiously averted onto her cigarette, "And that boy's practically my brother."

"You don't even have the same last name."

"Doesn't matter," she said, looking up, "You're worried about him out there with her. You think he's not good enough to protect her or anything else and you have no compunctions about telling him so."

"Bianca," cautioned Valentina from her side of the room.

"Or do you think you didn't train him right?" asked Bianca, tilting her head higher.

John whirled around and pointed an accusatory finger at her.

"I trained him right," he snapped again, "It's not on me that he's a healer, and probably the most talented one to come into this area in several decades. I am well aware that he has saved the lives of many sorcerers, and I am well aware that his affection for my daughter will more than assure that he will do everything in his power, and probably more, to take care of her. In fact, I'm thinking that he'd rather die than let anything happen to her. So yes, I worry; I worry he's going to die doing something stupid and noble. Is that enough for you Ms. Lawrence?"

She stared at him with wide eyes. Everyone else in the room was staring too. Irritated beyond belief at what he had just said he searched for what he should do now. Down on the first floor though, he felt two of the outermost wards shatter. A small vibration shook the room and the Merlinians, John included, darted out of the room as the argument was momentarily forgotten.

.

.

.

"This neighborhood looks kinda-"

"Iffy?" finished Balthazar, "Good observation Robin. It generally serves to keep people away."

"I can't stop crying," Lacy said, scrubbing her face with her handkerchief, "And I feel nauseous."

Balthazar stopped the car by the curb and got out. Lacy's comment turned out to be strangely prophetic as she suddenly flung the car door open and threw up in the street. Robin walked over to her and, seeing how she was shaking, took off his coat and put it over her shoulders.

Quietly Balthazar unlocked the store and went in. Part of him felt he should've tidied up a little. The last time he had been there was that morning to check on the Grimhold. He felt uneasy leaving it behind, but if he had a place that was highly protected anyway than it was much safer than just taking it around with him. However, he hadn't known that Horvath was there, so that was just another reason to stop by. Still though, the layer of dust that they left footprints in was embarrassing.

"The sign outside says 'Johnson and Johnson Bankers'," Robin said, "Why's this an antique shop then?"

"Again, observant," said Balthazar as he rolled his eyes, "They're the ones I bought it from. Never bothered changing the sign. I just tell people it's an antique if they ask, but not many do. It's not like I get many customers and I'm here a little less than a day a year. Notice the gold lettering that says 'appointment only' too by chance?"

"You should rename it," Lacy said.

"And why's that?"

"Names are important. Names identify," she said, "I mean, Female Infant number 98's not a name. Lacy Rebecca Steed's a name, and that made me a person. Your shop's just a place right now if you don't name it."

He stared at her for awhile. One of his hands itched for the dragon ring for the second time in an hour, but again he knew he'd be wasting his time.

"Well the name it has right now suitably deigns it my dumping grounds since 1888," he said gruffly.

"1888?" asked Lacy, "But Papa said you only came that one time-"

"That's what I told him," he said, "I even stay in a hotel to throw him off track sometimes and that's expensive. Look, your father's trustworthy but I'd really prefer it if no one knew about this place for several reasons. For one thing there's a good deal of dangerous things in here. I trust neither of you will speak of it again and forget it the moment you leave."

His eyes narrowed.

"_**Right?**_"

"Yes Mr. Blake," Robin said hurriedly.

"Yes sir," answered Lacy.

"Good," he said, letting his eyes go back to their normal size, "I've got a ready-made teleportation spell in the back. Normally I wouldn't need one, but I assume that both of you would like to come. And there's something I need to get. Don't touch anything."

Turning on his heel he disappeared behind a wall. Lacy and Robin stood there awkwardly for awhile. She coughed harshly and made a gagging noise. Robin put his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't tell Papa that I'm just throwing up liquid," she said after some time, "He told me not to, but Jess said lemon in hot water for breakfast would improve my complexion. I had it for three days now and…you know I don't eat much to begin with. He'll be mad if he knew."

"Odd thing to worry about," commented Robin, "Besides, your complexion's fine. I mean…really nice- I mean…well…you get it."

He blushed. She shrugged and pulled the coat tighter, simultaneously moving a little closer to him.

"Want it to stay that way."

"You shouldn't listen to Jess," Robin admonished, "Besides, lemon water's actually for weight loss."

Lacy's mouth opened wordlessly. Finally she said;

"I'm gonna kill her. It tasted nasty."

Robin started to laugh. Lacy joined in too, snickering. When they were in full-blown hysterics Balthazar reentered the room, tucking the Grimhold inside his coat. For some reason the sight of two children on the brink of love in the face of terrible danger irritated him beyond belief. Exasperated he snapped;

"Morganians. After you. Places to be. Stop laughing. **NOW**."

Robin smiled sheepishly and shifted his feet. The small gesture mad him lose his balance and stumble a bit, his hand reaching out for something to steady himself with.

"**NO**!" yelled Balthazar.

In shock Robin withdrew his hand and allowed himself to fall backwards.

"You don't touch that!" Balthazar said, "That urn is where-"

"-the Emperor of the Han dynasty locked his least favorite wife," Lacy said, her eyes swimming with gold, "It's cursed so you'll be in it for ten years to the day if you open it. You want that to happen to you? Hm?"

Balthazar stared at her.

"How-?" he started.

"-did you know I was going to say that?" she said, her trembling increasing and a sheen of sweat appearing on her forehead, "You're picking up on things much faster than you're supposed to."

"Lacy-" Robin said, getting to his feet with concern on his face.

"-you're not just crying gold anymore," she said, "Your nose is bleeding, but it's bleeding gold."

She blinked and wiped her nose. Both men were staring at her now and she looked beyond miserable.

"This really hurts," she said softly.

"Let's get you to your father," Balthazar said, motioning them to the back.

They both followed, Robin helping Lacy along. She was having trouble walking now and Balthazar was glad that they'd taken the side trip when they had. He quickly lit up the magic circle and had the two of them step inside it. He said the required Latin words and the flames flared up. When they died down again they found themselves in the middle of a war zone.


	6. Chapter 6

A pillar started to crash down and Balthazar quickly constructed a shield. Using his other hand he threw the pillar away from them and sent a plasma bolt in the direction of the attack and heard a muffled scream. He smirked. A sorcerer could always count on plasma bolts for any and all jobs.

"Behind you!" screamed a voice.

Balthazar looked over at the Morganian sorcerer behind them. He seemed confused by their sudden arrival, but not too confused to cast a spell at someone whom he knew as the leader of the opposition. Balthazar started to summon up another plasma bolt but someone else blasted him to the opposite wall. He turned and saw Bianca, who spit on the ground in disgust. She ran over to them, panting heavily.

"Bianca-" started Lacy.

"You've got gold on your face honey," she interrupted, taking out a handkerchief and starting to wipe it off.

After a few seconds she gave up. No handkerchief could stem all that. It was only then that she turned her attention to the other two.

"Good job Mr. Blake, you got 'er," she said, nodding her head towards Lacy, "Glad to see you're in one piece too Rob."

"What's happening?" asked Balthazar.

"Oh, nothing much. Just a little old invasion," she said sarcastically, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of a pocket before lighting one with trembling hands, "Horvath broke through most of the wards like they were tissue paper. They were supposed to be the strongest we could get-"

"Horvath has a lot of tricks up his sleeve," Balthazar said, "Where's he now?"

"John and some others were trying to battle him last I saw, but he thinks Lacy's here and he wasn't even looking at them," she said, simultaneously inhaling and sniffing at him, "Now he's right."

Her tone smarted a little but Balthazar drew himself up.

"You should leave him to me," he said, "I've fought him before."

"Oh no you don't," she said, blowing smoke before flicking the cigarette away angrily, "You make sure Lacy here's okay. She's the number one priority right now, not some petty squabble that's been going on for centuries."

Balthazar looked at her, repulsed by her summation of his battle with Horvath. Not caring she continued;

"John told me what she's supposed to predict and if Horvath finds her and someone as weak as me is the only one standing between him and her then-"

"What am I supposed to predict exactly?" Lacy piped up.

There was a tense silence. It was only then that he realized, with one thing and another, no one had really told her what it was all about. Robin, in his similar state of ignorance, looked somewhat confused as well. Just as Balthazar started to figure out a gentle way to break her new importance to her Bianca said bluntly;

"We're not sure exactly; something important pertaining to the birth of the Prime Merlinians. There are Arcanum about **your** Arcana."

"Way to say it," Balthazar said, looking over at the girl who now looked profusely frightened.

"Normally I'd give her a glass of warm milk and tuck her into bed too but there's no time to mince words," Bianca snapped, "I have to get back down there; it was all going to hell when I last checked. We're trying to start up a storm to cover this up and they definitely need my help. I only went after these bastards because they ran off, if you'll excuse my French. Take care of yourself Rob."

Without another word she turned and headed downstairs. Shaking his head Balthazar turned back to the two shocked teens.

"Is there any part of this building you know well?" he asked.

"Um…Papa's office," stammered Lacy, "Two floors up. It's undergoing renovations, some art-deco mural, but I think it should…yeah."

"Take the elevator," he said, "You can trust me when I say that no one's going to get past this floor."

Robin nodded his head and started to head towards the elevator. Lacy resisted his pull though and said;

"But they will!"

The girl's lack of faith in him made him frown. He had just pulled off her rescue after all. Then he remembered who she was and realized that this probably wasn't a lack of faith at all. To emphasize this she took a drawing out of her pocket and thrust it into his hands. He looked at it and felt his heart sink. At least there weren't any black lines around it, but that was cold comfort considering that there weren't any lines around it **at all**.

Tearing his eyes away from the paper he looked down at Lacy. She seemed to be pleading with him to listen to her. Still, being the kind of man that he was, he couldn't help but notice the gold rings that were forming around her irises.

"This will happen," she said, "It's what happens afterwards that counts though."

"Then get upstairs," he said quietly.

She pulled away from Robin completely and hugged Balthazar around his waist. He looked at the girl like she'd sprouted wings, which she might have for the strangeness of her action. Tentatively, and feeling extremely awkward, he patted her on the back.

"Birds are still your friends, even if they're not real," she murmured.

"What?" he asked.

Lacy looked up and blinked.

"Did I say something?" she asked nervously.

He shook his head.

"Nothing important. Now go on upstairs."

Nodding to him she allowed Robin to usher her into the elevator. As soon as he saw that the elevator carriage had reached his destination he placed his hand against the door. The metal clouded for a moment before the door welded themselves shut. The stairs were still available, but there was no real way to close those off.

Pulling his hand away from the elevator he looked around. If what Bianca had said was right, and he believed it was, Horvath was probably already on his way up. His thoughts were confirmed when he heard footsteps from the end of a side hall, as well as the clinking of a cane on the floor. Gritting his teeth Balthazar stuffed the picture in his pocket and started to summon up a plasma bolt. He threw it in the direction of the noise, only to have it deflected.

That had been what he was expecting though. He took off running then, knowing that Horvath would follow someone with the audacity to attack him in such a manner. Horvath had a thing against plasma bolts in particular, probably because Balthazar had always been better at them. It was only after a few minutes that Balthazar realized he'd turned into a service staircase that went to the top of the building.

His mind flashed back to the picture and he winced. There had been no flux lines, none whatsoever. No matter what he tried he was being drawn to one inevitable conclusion. Yes, perhaps what he did after this would make things change. However, he couldn't see how him being shoved off the roof of the Chrysler building with Horvath holding the Grimhold could have a happy ending.

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.

.

"We've got to stop," Lacy begged, sinking to her knees.

Robin tried to help her up, only to find that she couldn't. Every time he thought her legs were balanced she just slipped down again. He picked her up then, deciding in practicality over the blushes he was getting then. She was light, he knew that, but at the same time he was also quite weak in comparison to the adults who were carrying her. He was even weak for a fourteen year old.

_Please don't let me fail because I chose choir over gym, please please please, _he begged the powers that be inwardly, _I promise I'll get stronger, I'll work out every day, I'll even join that stupid football team full of those morons who can't do long division. Just please don't let me fail her. _

Somehow he managed to get her into her father's office. Dust sheets had been thrown everywhere and unopened buckets of paint lay stood near a blank white wall where he guessed the mural was going to be. However, he had been in John Steed's office almost as much as Lacy had, and he knew his way around quite well despite all of the dust sheets.

Knowing that her Arcana must be drawing near he settled her down onto a sofa, not bothering to take off the dust sheet. He helped ease the messenger bag off of her shoulder and onto the floor. Picking it up he put it at the end of the sofa for a pillow before laying her down gently.

Straightening up he went over to one of the buckets of paint. Using a tool that some thoughtless workman had left behind he pried the top off of the bucket. Then he picked up a paintbrush, probably left behind by the same workman, and started painting on the floor. Mr. Steed could yell at him for ruining his office later.

Methodically he started to draw the symbols in the Merlin Circle. He wasn't strong; he had never had the aptitude for magic like Bianca had. Still, the Circle would allow him to at least put up some small modicum of resistance. Robin finished with the symbols and tossed the paintbrush back into the paint bucket.

Tiredly he walked back to the sofa and knelt beside it. She was shaking horribly now and crying gold onto the sofa. Tentatively he laid an arm on her shoulder. She smiled at him, then stiffened somewhat.

"Is this-?" he started, holding onto her a little tighter.

"Not quite," she said, "I think…yeah…just another preshock. Somewhere in that area though…"

Biting her lip she closed her eyes and leaned a little more strongly into his shoulder. He could see that gold was still flowing out beneath her eyelids.

"I need another story," she sang softly, "Something to get off my chest…my life gets kinda boring…need something that I can confess. 'Til all my sleeves are stained red…from all the truth that I've said…"

With mounting horror he stared at her. Robin had always enjoyed listening to Lacy sing; she'd even told him she'd like to do it professionally one day. Honestly he knew that that was what she should be doing, even though everyone knew that she wouldn't need to be doing **anything** professionally for the rest of her life. Not with John Steed as her father.

Now though, he wished she'd stop. Even now her voice was still lovely, even with the gold shimmer on her face and her body trembling. Nothing could harm that voice. Still, he couldn't help but lean his forehead near hers in an attempt to fight back tears. He wished she'd stop; he didn't know what she was singing and it was obvious it was causing her pain.

"So tell me what you want from me," she continued, oblivious to everything around her, especially the boy next to her, "Something that'll like those ears, sick of all the insincere, so I'm gonna give all my secrets away. This time, don't need another perfect lie, don't care if critics ever jump in line, I'm gonna give all my secrets away…all my secrets away…"


	7. Chapter 7

Horvath stepped out from the service staircase and looked carefully out onto the roof. There had been power behind the blast, more than one of the mere peons on the lower levels had possessed. He wondered vaguely if they had been hiding someone in reserve, but he had studied the small group for far too long for them to be able to do something like that successfully. He had also studied them far too well for any of the members to be pretending to be weaker than they were.

Still, he hadn't gotten where he was by taking things for granted. Remaining careful he walked towards the rail. There was a small noise behind him and he lashed out with his cane in its direction. A plasma bolt left the blue jewel in the top of the cane, and a flurry of feathers was all that remained of the rather unfortunate pigeon. Horvath stared distastefully at it and rested his hand on the railing.

Immediately the rail twisted so that it wrapped itself firmly around his hand. Another one gripped his cane and jerked it away from him. Once more, a complicated piece of magic was being performed that required power which didn't fit the profile of any member of the New York Merlinians. He stared angrily at the metal and tried to jerk his imprisoned hand from its confines. It wouldn't budge though and he reached for his cane.

A fist hit him in the chin and he stumbled backwards. He blinked; the impact momentarily hurt his vision, blinding him as to who his attacker had been. However, they had been wearing rings. The pain he was feeling on his face was a truthful testament to that. His lip was even bleeding. It had been centuries since he had last bled. Oh, it would not be quick for them when he got free.

That was the last thought he had before he looked up to glare at whoever had trapped him in the first place. He rolled his eyes in irritation.

"Really, I should've known," Horvath said.

"Probably," agreed Balthazar nonchalantly, reaching inside his coat.

Horvath wondered exactly what Balthazar was doing when he withdrew the Grimhold. He laughed then.

"Oh dear, you really are very unoriginal," he said, "I always thought that when it came down to it you would just kill me. I suppose I overestimated you."

"You don't deserve that," he said, his tone still casual, "Too quick."

"Now that's very judgmental of you," he said, "You're forgetting that I was with the Spanish Armada."

Something dark and angry flashed in Balthazar's eyes. He had to suppress a laugh. Well, he was making **some **progress. That old wound still smarting? That had only been a passing incident. He wondered just how angry he was at certain…older...incidents. When Balthazar responded, it was angry and bitter.

"**I've** never tortured children."

Horvath raised his eyebrows.

"So that was you and not Steed back at the Belleclaire then?" he asked, "Wondered why you didn't say anything. And I suppose that's why you're here now; running errands for American Merlinians."

Balthazar began running a finger over the Grimhold. Horvath felt the grip of the metal slacken around his hand. The noticed that the same thing was happening to his cane. Not even Balthazar could hold this magic for much longer while distracted **and** trying to open the Grimhold. He grinned. This would be easy.

"You know," he said, "I never thought it would be the Grimhold for me."

"So you've said," Balthazar said, not looking up.

"Want to know why?" he asked, wriggling his hand slightly.

"I have a feeling that you're going to tell me anyway," sighed Balthazar in a mixture of irritation and anger.

Horvath leaned forward and smirked.

"I never thought you'd lock me in the same place with Veronica."

Balthazar's head shot up just as Horvath's hand came free. With one move he wrenched his cane free from its restraint and slashed at Balthazar with it. He was thrown over the rail, the Grimhold coming out of his grip. One of his hands gripped onto the rail which was the only reason he hadn't been thrown from the building entirely.

Smirking Horvath walked over to the Grimhold. He picked it up and rolled it around in his hands.

"It's heavier than I remember," he said, looking down at it, "Then again, you've made a few additions since I held it last."

He smirked again and looked over at Balthazar. In return his former friend glared back up at him.

"You're so easy to predict," he said, "And while it pains me to send someone off in such a crude way, these things do happen."

Bringing his cane back he slammed it down on Balthazar's hand. His fingers slipped a little and Horvath brought his cane back again.

"I'll give Lacy your regards," he said.

With another solid hit Balthazar lost his grip and plummeted downwards. Giving a contented smile Horvath turned and walked back inside the Chrysler building.

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.

.

"Lacy," Robin said.

She swallowed hard but didn't say anything. He was obviously concerned about her, and she wished she could say something comforting. Honestly though; she was concerned about herself as well. It felt as though her throat was swelling, her own tissues choking her and destroying her own airways. Her tongue felt like it had swelled too, but she managed to choke out;

"I wanted to go to choir practice on Monday."

"You're going to," he reassured her.

She shook her head.

"Not in this state," she said, "I'm not gonna be able to see anyone."

"We can tell them you've got a fever," he said soothingly, "And all our friends will come just like they did when Angela got sick-"

"No," she said, shaking her head, "You don't…understand. I'm not gonna be able to **see** anyone. **Anything** either…for that matter."

Robin clenched his free hand into a fist.

"You'll be fine," he assured her, "You're Lacy Steed. You can do anything. That's what's best about you; your strength, your sweetness, and…and…"

Lacy tilted her head slightly to look at him.

"Are you trying to say something?" she asked sweetly.

"I…uh…I-"

"You don't need to worry. I like you," she said bluntly.

Before he could respond she tilted her head downwards and kissed him lightly on the nose. His face slowly turned a bright red, starting where she had kissed him and spreading to the tips of his ears. She giggled a little before it turned into coughing. He waited until they subsided until he said;

"If- **when **this is over," he stammered helplessly, "Can I take you to a movie?"

Lacy looked at him a little oddly. It seemed that he didn't quite understand.

"There's this one with Clark Gable and Vivienne Ley that looks pretty good," he babbled, "Dramatic but good."

"I…I won't be able to see it," she said softly.

Robin looked like he was fighting the urge to hit himself.

"I'll describe it to you," he said, determined, "Or I'll take you to the soda fountain. Either way it's my treat."

She smiled wanly at him and swallowed back the rest of the tears that were threatening to spill over.

"You should go."

"No."

"Things are…they're…they're gonna get nasty," she pleaded thickly, "Anyone can see that. I'll be fine. I…I'm…I'm valuable as long as I can keep having visions…and if it kills me…then there's nothing you can do about that…and I don't think Horvath's the merciful type so-"

"I'm a healer!" he insisted, "Of course I'd be able to do something about it!"

"Won't help," she said, shaking her head listlessly and fighting to keep her eyes open, "You…you've got to leave…"

"I'm not going to leave you," he said firmly.

"Touching."  
Both of them looked up to see Horvath standing in the doorway. Robin's hands gripped Lacy's shoulders tightly, and licked his lips nervously. Nonchalantly Horvath swatted at the offices' few wards with his cane, and silver rippled through the air. He stepped in and brushed imaginary lint off of his clothes.

"I believe we have unfinished business Ms. Steed."

Very slowly and gently Robin got to his feet. The Circle that he had painted lit up and a shield formed around them.

"You call this a shield?" he asked, looking condescendingly and almost pityingly at the boy, "Is this some sort of a joke? Forgive me if I don't laugh; my sense of humor is just a touch more sophisticated."

Closing his eyes Robin took a deep breath, perhaps in an attempt to clear his mind. When he opened them again he had steeled himself. Knowing now that he was actually going to try and fight the man before them Lacy struggled to get up, attempting weakly to push herself into a sitting position.

"Balthazar's coming," he said, his hands clenching into fists by his side, "And everyone knows he's more powerful than you."

Lacy swallowed a cry when she saw Horvath's eyes go dark. Slowly he started fishing around in his coat.

"I don't think he'll be joining us."

Robin's eyes widened when he saw that he was holding the Grimhold. Lacy, who had already known this, finally found her tongue.

"Please don't try to fight him," she begged. "You can't-"

"No, I can't. But I can go down fighting," he said.

Horvath rolled his eyes.

"Kids these days," he said.

With a flick of his cane he sent a bolt of lightning towards him. Robin quickly strengthened his shield; his instincts were good although his powers were weak. Everyone in the room knew it was useless though even before the shield shattered on impact. The blast threw him into the opposite wall, breaking a lamp that was there. Glass flew everywhere and Robin slumped to the ground.


	8. Chapter 8

Lacy forced herself to sit up entirely as she screamed. She tried to get to her feet but fell down on her first step, hitting the ground hard. Her glasses flew off her face, making everything look fuzzy and far away. Momentarily she was disoriented and confused. Then she shook her head, which proved to clear it a little.

She heard the lenses on her glasses break from where she was and she fought to get back up. Now her arms weren't cooperating. It was all Lacy could do to fight back the tears that were coming thick and fast. She didn't like crying on the best of days. Now though the tears came out golden now and told her that everything was going to hell.

Sighing Horvath walked over to her. He picked her up by her hair. Normally such an action would've hurt her, but her whole body was a mess of pain then. A little more wasn't making such a difference, although her vision was blurring severely in front of her. Weakly she swatted at his hand and he jerked her head a little to make her stop.

"You're almost ready," he said, "Thought you were going to deprive me of my prize you stupid brat? This is my night; the night of my great triumph. Balthazar's dead, Manhattan will fall with the death of your father, and I'll be there for the Prime Merlinian. Now hurry up!"

Her vision was slowly closing in on itself and she felt odd. It was almost as if she was passing out from the way that her vision was blacking out, but it wasn't that. When she was younger she had been climbing on the roof and had fallen off. Due to the quick thinking of her father she had been unharmed, but she had been four and had panicked. So she knew what fainting was, and it wasn't at all as painful as this.

Everything in her mind was going fuzzy, making it hard to think in anything more than short bursts. Finally though she realized what it was that was making her feel that way. Lacy gave herself completely to tears then, because it didn't make any difference. Horvath snorted in disgust but she couldn't care less about him.

She didn't know where her father was or if he was alright. Balthazar wasn't there so Horvath was most likely telling the truth; he was dead. She didn't even know if Robin was alright, although he was just a few feet away from her. Now, to top it off, there was nothing that she could do to prevent the thing that was causing it all. She took a sobbing breath as the darkness took her.

"Will you stop it?" demanded Horvath.

The girl went abruptly silent. He cocked his head at that, and then her eyes opened. They were pure gold, no white visible at all. Lacy smashed his arm away from hers. He hadn't let go though, and was left with a fistful of her hair. She didn't care that he had just ripped out part of her scalp, just glared at him and said very clearly, and very angrily;

"Don't eat my sandwich!"

He stared at her as she spun on her heel and ran over to the buckets of paint scattered around the room. She picked up one and tore the top of it off, chipping her nails in the process. Calmly Horvath let go of the hair she had left him with and watched her drag the paint over to the white wall.

She picked up the bucket and threw it all over. A deep, dark blue stained the wall and dribbled down it. Some splashed on her as well, looking as though a wave of water was tumbling about her. After that she went for another bucket and dragged it forward. As she did so she muttered to herself;

"Yes, yes, except I'm not your mentor, I'm your master!"

Another bucket was opened. This one she dipped her hand in and started to finger paint. Horvath noticed the rapidity that the paint on the wall was already dry, which was much faster than usual. He watched her with interest as he saw an outline taking shape.

"We'll do the rising here in Battery Park!" she shouted, "We'll use the satellites to bounce the signal…!"

Horvath raised his eyebrows and grinned thoughtfully as she continued to paint in her frenzied way. Battery Park? What an interesting notion, a good place for the Rising indeed. He did wonder what a satellite was though. Putting that thought aside he settled down to watch what he knew to be a true artist at work.

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.

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Balthazar looked below him. For all of his experience, all of the hours he had spent with his Incantus, he still hadn't learned a spell that would allow him to fly. Oh, he could levitate things, but that was another matter entirely. He had long ago decided that no one had invented such a spell because it would've been too complicated.

Now though he was wishing rather fervently that they had. He honestly wondered how much longer he could hold on. He knew exactly how to fall to minimize damage, that was true. However, the way he saw it there was no way that he could make a calculated fall from there without two things happening. The first was breaking several bones and going through a lot of pain. The second was dying.

Allowing himself the pleasure of cursing now that there weren't any minors around he wondered why the architect hadn't allowed for more ledges that jutted out conveniently. After falling the first few feet he had gained a precarious perch hanging onto a ledge a few feet underneath a large metal eagle. The metal that lined it was slippery to his sweaty hands and he wished that the wind just hadn't been as strong as it had been.

Bianca had been right about the Merlinians and the storm that they were trying to summon up. The clouds were rolling ominously over his head and he could hear lightning in the distance. If it rained soon than he was going out of the frying pan and into the fire. Just another thing that was going wrong that day.

"_Birds are still your friends, even if they're not real."_

He looked up at the metal eagle suspiciously. Alright, so it was only because he had hit it on the way down that he had managed to get a grip on what was now keeping him aloft. So it had technically caught him in a way while the picture had only shown him falling. That was some pretty important fine print though.

However, he couldn't see just how it was his friend by any real stretch of the imagination. If anything it could have some better texture to provide a better grip or been made of something softer so his back wouldn't hurt like it did. Then he thought it out and considered all possibilities. A grin came to his face, containing only traces of irony.

Breathing deeply he took his ring hand off of the ledge. Immediately his other arm screamed in protest. There was more required of it though. He used it to push himself upwards by a few inches while his other arm was stretched forward to its full extent. His fingertips just barely managed to touch the surface of the metal eagle. When it did though, the metal shimmered and moved. Balthazar grinned again, and this time there was no irony.

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.

"And I thought my last boyfriend was different because he wore a scarf," Lacy murmured.

Her hands were still globbing paint onto the wall, although every now and then she would delicately dip a finger into a different color and add a few details. She had forgone all of the paintbrushes around the room, never even once picking them up. It appeared that she preferred to work with her hands.

Horvath cocked his head this way and that, trying to understand what was going on. Admittedly the picture had taken a good deal more shape than when she had begun a few minutes ago. He had never had much patience for art though, and he wished that she would just get it over with so he could see the end product.

Furthermore her words made no sense at all, and they were becoming few and far between. He had heard that Seers were supposed to spout nonsense during their Arcana, but what she was saying was very far-fetched. A few minutes ago she had uttered the oddest phrase he had heard in this or any century;

"These are not the droids you are looking for."

Whatever that meant part of him knew he wasn't going to enjoy finding out at all. Impatiently he tapped his cane loudly on the floor. The sooner she finished up the better. Once she had completed the mural he could figure out what it meant, and then he could free Morgana and get it over with.

A window shattered behind him, as well as part of a wall. Horvath ducked as plaster and glass flew everywhere. He covered his ears to block out the triumphant keening noise that was made. When he did look up he saw Balthazar jumping off of a giant metal eagle, which was straining to get inside the building, and striding towards him angrily.

"Should've known it wouldn't be that easy," muttered Horvath as he got to his feet.

"Undoubtedly," Balthazar said, forming a plasma bolt in his hands, "Thought you knew me just a little bit better by now."

"Put your old man shoes back on!" interjected Lacy.

Balthazar looked over at her and his face registered surprise at the Arcana which was being plastered over the wall. Horvath took the opportunity to strike out with a plasma bolt of his own which Balthazar met with his own. The two spells hit each other in the air and cancelled themselves out in a burst of blue light.

Carefully the two sorcerers circled each other. In the background Lacy continued to paint, her hands moving much faster than they had in the past. However, neither of them were paying much attention to her. Their eyes were locked on each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

It was Horvath's impatience which caused him to throw fire at Balthazar. Starting up a vacuum spell Balthazar caught it and threw it back at him. Horvath had to leap to the side to avoid being hit with his own spell. Instead it hit the wall and exploded a light, spilling more glass everywhere.

"You know," Horvath said, straightening his hat and getting back up, "I have a feeling they're going to be talking about this battle for ages."

Balthazar didn't answer, just cast his next spell. The smell of ozone consumed the air as the elements were thrown between the two sorcerers. Things had always been fairly even between them magically, but Balthazar's ingenuity had always allowed him to prevail. Or, at least it had given him enough time to run away. He had to hope that this would be similar.

Panting he looked over at Lacy. Her hands were slowing now until they stopped completely. With just a final dot her Arcana was completed. Small words were written on it too, and for a minute she stood and stared at the picture. Then she turned, with movements so small that they might not have happened at all, and she said softly;

"It is you."

Then, very gently, she collapsed onto the floor.

"I suppose that means she's done," said Horvath.

Balthazar flung out his hands furiously and furniture was hurled at his opponent. His cane glowed and a shield formed around him. Upon impact the furniture was turned into matchsticks, which Balthazar had to construct a shield to avoid being impaled by. Still, it gave him the opportunity to hurry over to the small girl.

He knelt down next to her. Lacy was laying on her back near the buckets of paint, still and pale. Her eyes were open, and the gold in them was rapidly receding. She was spattered with different colors of paint and scars. Quickly he put two fingers on her neck and checked her pulse. Nothing. He swore out loud now. It was possible that she hadn't had time to return fully from her Arcana, but it was also very possible that he was clutching at straws.

Again he swore. Out of everything he had tried to do, to protect this child, he had failed. Instead of spending her thirteenth birthday in the warm wishes of her friends and family and being showered with gifts she had been tortured and killed. Gritting his teeth he extended a hand to close her eyes.

Suddenly he was flung to the floor. Balthazar felt his hand thrown away from him and glued to the floor. He struggled as Horvath walked up to him. Casually he nudged Lacy's still form with his foot and tsked to himself. Then he strolled up to Balthazar and leaned over him slightly.

"Such a waste," he said, "she really could've been useful. A shame."

"She was thirteen!" snarled Balthazar, "She didn't deserve that!"

"Suffer the children," shrugged Horvath.

He sighed and set the Grimhold down next to his feet.

"I would lock you in there," Horvath said, "The irony would be amazing. However, unlike you, I do think that the quick way would be best."

Horvath grinned, the jewel in his cane glowing brightly.


	9. Chapter 9

Lacy felt as though her head was full of damp cotton and her bones full of lead. Nothing worked and she felt like she was very far away from her body. Still, she could feel the pain from a sudden movement of her shoulder, like it was being nudged by a pointed shoe, so that must be a good thing. She figured that she must've had her eyes closed, that was why it was so dark.

So she tried to open them. It was then that she realized that they were already open, but that she still couldn't see anything. She was blind. Why was she blind? Oh yes, her Arcana. That must've happened. Lacy had had her Arcana and now she couldn't see. Yes, yes of course. All of her other memories quickly followed that one and she felt some strength returning to her.

"Such a waste," someone said, "she really could've been useful. A shame."

That voice. It was familiar but caused shivers to go up her spine. Horvath. That was most definitely Horvath's voice. What exactly was he doing? Was he talking about her? She blinked and tried to concentrate. Footsteps clattered in her ears and she tried to understand just what was going on.

"She was thirteen!" snarled another person, "She didn't deserve that!"

That voice was familiar too. Balthazar! So he'd lived. Wait, they **were **talking about her! They thought she was dead. Concentrating she moved her fingers. No, she most definitely was not dead. So they were fighting, but she couldn't feel any magic in the air. A stalemate perhaps? Since she had heard Horvath moving, that couldn't be good.

"Suffer the children."

A clinking noise echoed across her ears as something was set down on the floor.

"I would lock you in there," Horvath said, "The irony would be amazing. However, unlike you, I do think that the quick way would be best."

Now she knew exactly what was going on, and she had to do something. Forcing herself to her feet she reached out. Her hand felt something heavy. An unopened paint bucket, the only thing it could be. Her thoughts still fragmented she wrapped her hand around the handle. Laboriously she picked it up and walked forward. Then, summoning up what little strength she had, she swung it in the direction that she had heard Horvath talking from.

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.

.

Balthazar's eyes widened as he saw Lacy get up. He tried to conceal his shock at what was going on. After all, she was defenseless on a good day and now she was most certainly blind to boot. She wouldn't be able to stand up to Horvath for five minutes. However, he couldn't keep his eyes from bugging out of his head when she picked up the paint bucket and swung it clumsily at Horvath.

It hit him in the shoulder, and it looked like it was a very strong blow. This was even more impressive when one considered what she had been through over the past few hours. The impact made Horvath stumble to the side. He turned around, saw Lacy, and snarled. With a furious blow he backhanded her across the face, which made her fall to the floor.

However, in that time, Balthazar had not been idle. As soon as Horvath's attention was redirected elsewhere he was given enough leeway to slip out of the pressure spell. Once free he leapt forward and snatched the Grimhold. The appropriate spells had already been done. In his haste to intercept Lacy Horvath hadn't bothered to dismantle them.

Gripping the Grimhold with one hand he grasped Horvath's wrist with the other. Horvath turned to look at him and Balthazar muttered, his voice deep and furious;

"Laqueus!"

Without even time to utter a curse Horvath dissolved into a million different specks of black dust. They formed around the Grimhold before settling, adding another layer to the prison. Exhausted Balthazar slumped backwards against the wall. He held the Grimhold closely to himself, breathing heavily.

His thoughts were no longer on the former friend that he had imprisoned though. When it had accepted Horvath Balthazar had, however briefly, been able to see all the images on all the different layers. It always happened this way. So he was instead thinking about the inner layer of the Grimhold, where the only one he could trust from his old life remained, both his past and hopefully his future.

"Veronica," he murmured softly.

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.

The inside of the Grimhold was winter without the purity of the snow to cover up the monstrosity that it truly was. Trees were black and dead, the ground was barren, the sky murky, and the air unbearably cold and still. No sunshine had ever permeated the thick cloud layers, and no rain had ever fallen despite the muddy ground. Morgause had not made this prison to be comfortable for Morgana.

At least that was the conclusion that Veronica had drawn after spending so much time in it. Time moved stagnantly, an hour could be a minute or a second a year. She had long since given up trying to figure it out. All her time was spent avoiding Morgana's twisted spirit and trying to somehow stay warm.

She first became aware that any length of time had actually past on the arrival of Abigail Williams. When it happened a sharp feeling flooded the Grimhold, as did a few noises and a scrap of warmth. The name of the girl was blared sharply in her mind, as was the year it was outside her prison. She wasn't sure how it happened, but it did.

Veronica was staggered by the year. 1692 was almost a thousand years after she had been trapped. She leaned her arm against a flaky, dead tree for support and breathed in her way that substituted crying. Balthazar had been out there for nearly a thousand years, searching, fighting, and alone.

However, it wouldn't take Morgana long to catch up with her when she was like that. She couldn't talk to Abigail; she had the feeling she wouldn't want to anyway. Morgana was different though. She was, quite literally, in her soul now and she could speak to Veronica any time she found her, and she had no kind words for sorceress.

So she had had to put Balthazar out of her mind for a few minutes while she forced herself to move on for a little longer. When she was further away she allowed herself to think of her love again. Surely he would be all right. It couldn't be much longer that he had to look for the Prime Merlinian. He was strong, capable, and surely he had found fellow sorcerers to aid him in his quest.

When the Grimhold admitted another Morganian she felt that same feeling of warmth. There were unfamiliar sounds coming from outside, different colors. There were so few inside the Grimhold that she felt almost robbed when they went away. Sun-Lok came into her mind, as did 1713. Twenty-one years since the last one.

That amount of time felt a little worrying to her. Nearly a thousand had passed before he had seen fit to lock another inside the Grimhold, and then such a short time before the next? Were dangerous Morganians that common? What if, and the possibility was awful, Horvath had taken on apprentices? Veronica found herself worrying constantly now about the safety of the man she had given everything to protect.

Now came the latest time that the Grimhold had opened. She nearly choked from surprise and relief when she felt the name Maxim Horvath in her mind. So at last Balthazar was safe from what was probably the one man who could truly harm him. After that though came the year and all vestiges of relief abruptly disappeared.

It was 1939 out there. Over one thousand and two hundred years since she had been locked away, since everything had gone to hell. All that time had passed and Balthazar had still not found the Prime Merlinian? Had the Arcana Nineve been wrong, perhaps the part about Merlin's heir in flux? Her knees sank down into the ground and she put her hands forward to keep from falling forward completely.

She bit her lip. All that time had flowed seamlessly for her, lonely, freezing, and hounded by Morgana. It hadn't been pleasant, and it had been long and hard. However, how had it been for him? Without knowing it she had condemned him to search alone, and he was undoubtedly alone now. No sorcerer short of Merlin could keep a man alive for that long, and the Prime Merlinian was obviously not there.

"How many people have you lost my love?" she murmured.

"And how many women do you think he's had?" a voice whispered by her ear.

Veronica didn't have the strength left to turn and face Morgana at the moment. While Morgana couldn't physically harm her, she could still speak to her.

"No man can love for that long," she said insistently.

She couldn't reply to that, too weak, too tired to try and get away now.

"And that's at least twenty life spans," Morgana said thoughtfully, "How long ago do you think he forgot about you?"

From somewhere Veronica drew the strength to stand. Perhaps it was in the memory of the day that he told her he loved her, when he placed a wet ring in her hand that he'd fished from the river, or from an awkward note written as a supplicant. Most of all though it came from one of the only things that she still held dear from her old life.

"He remembers me," Veronica said simply, "And he loves me still."

"You don't know that."

"I know," replied Veronica, clenching her firsts, "I know that like I know there's air there to breathe. Go peddle your poison elsewhere."

Without another word she picked up the skirts of her purple gown and ran for as long as she could. She knew Morgana wouldn't follow her on foot, not for awhile at least. Well, Morgana wasn't getting the satisfaction of saying another word to her, of trying to get her to doubt the only thing that was solid for her anymore. No, she would never let that woman win over what she knew was true.

.

.

.

"Is it over?" asked Lacy, her hands feeling the area around herself.

Balthazar sighed deeply and got to his feet. He stashed the Grimhold inside a magically enhanced pocket in his coat and walked over to her. Grasping her hand he helped her shakily to her feet.

"It's over," he said.

"And Robin?" she asked, her head turning blindly around.

Frowning he started to scan the office. In all of the excitement he had forgotten completely about the boy, but he wasn't going to admit that to Lacy. He found him by the desk. Robin was unconscious, but he was most definitely still alive. It was the work of seconds to revive him.

"Is-?" he started, wincing slightly.

"Yes," Balthazar said, "She's had her Arcana."

He was impressed that the boy didn't ask any questions about it, nor did he even glance at the mural that had been painted on the wall. Instead he got up and walked over to the couch. He picked up Lacy's messenger bag before walking over to her, biting his lip. On his way he also picked up her broken glasses. Standing next to her he held them out and said gently;

"I found your glasses."

"I don't need them anymore," she said blankly.

Looking away Robin put them in his pocket.

"What I would like though," she said, her voice surprisingly calm, "Is…I can't find my way out of the office…and I need to go and find my father…"

Robin reached out and wrapped her arm around his shoulders to support her. With the other hand he held hers. Balthazar watched as the two of them made their way out of the office. He hesitated though. He did want to know what had happened to the other Merlinians, but his mind was on a rather more pressing matter.

Turning he looked at the large mural. The New York skyline dominated the top of it, with Merlin's Circle and the Morganian Pentagram replacing the moon and stars. It gave way to other images though. Merlin's ring was nestled safely in a sock drawer, an essay on Napoleon Bonaparte was taped to the fridge, and shoes similar to the ones he wore now twined together.

There were faces around the border to. Horvath's was there, his face not filled in in the art deco style, but Balthazar could recognize him from his outline. He saw that he was there too, as well as someone with two-toned hair in a military jacket. That man had an address swirling around him, which he made a mental note of. There was also blonde girl, her hair swept by the wind.

He swallowed hard when he saw Veronica in the corner, her hands clasped in front of her face as though praying. Balthazar reached forward and touched the faceless image briefly before forcing himself to look away to the rest of the Arcana. Alarmingly, or comfortingly, there were no flux lines anywhere on the picture.

In the middle of it all stood a man, although that was generous since he seemed about twenty. His hands were full of electricity which spilt in every direction and crawled like ivy around the rest of the picture. He wore no ring though, and there was only one person who could be central in this Arcana.

Balthazar looked hard at his future apprentice. He was wearing odd clothing, but clothing changed every few years. Beneath him were three dates; June 14, 2000, June 14, 2010, and June 15, 2010. Underneath the 2000 date was an address which was eerily familiar, although somewhat different. Under the 2010 one he recognized a subway station that was being built and the last one was some University. There was a time with that one, just a touch worrying.

Balthazar sighed deeply and placed his hand against the image. It rippled and he drew it from the wall and onto one of the dust sheets. The wall was once again blank, and Balthazar stuffed the dust sheet into his magically larger pocket. He was going to have to do a spell to keep that out of the Incantus, that kind of information was dangerous to be readily available. Then he turned away and strode out of the room.

In the hall there was a commotion. John and Bianca had just come up the stairs, followed by the other Merlinians. Letting out a cry John rushed to his daughter, who let go of Robin and collapsed gratefully into his hug. Bianca chuffed her cousin on the shoulder and laughed. Balthazar stood a little ways off, not wishing to intrude on the scene before it was necessary.

"I'm alright, I'm alright," Lacy assured her father.

John simply held her tighter, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He looked over at Robin who suddenly had all of his humility back. Breathing in deeply John nodded and said;

"I couldn't have done better myself. Thank you."

Robin looked surprised and stammered out;

"Tha…tha…thank you sir."

"Just call me Mr. Steed," he said, his eyes flickering up to Balthazar.

"Horvath's in the Grimhold," he said, answering John's unasked question, "And he'll be staying there. Lacy's Arcana's safe, but no one's getting it but me."

"Fair enough."

Balthazar shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You know, earlier I said I'd hit you," he said, "But I'm not feeling up to it right now. Maybe another time."

"Maybe."

Nodding and smiling Balthazar turned walked back into the office. The rest of the Merlinians followed, uncertain of what was going to, or should, happen next. He stepped out onto the metal eagle that was waiting for him. With another nod and a haphazard wave towards the sorcerers he took off into the night.

_**A/N: **__About the Arana; to me it fills in a lot of the plot holes in the movie. A) The sock drawer, since Balthazar had absolutely no way of knowing the ring was in there unless the bird told him. B) The address of Drake's apartment. Horvath had to go through quite some trouble to hunt Dave and Balthazar down in the movie, but Balthazar just magically knows where Drake and Horvath are. C)The subway station where he meets Dave again in 2010 and saves him from Horvath. D) The bathroom scene when he shows up at exactly the right time. He had a habit of magically being in the right place in the movie. _

_I know that there are ways that these things could've happened that we didn't need to see, and I'm over-thinking this. This is what happens when you see the movie three times. Thank God for second-run theaters! Just the epilogue to do now. _


	10. Epilogue

May 19, 1946

Balthazar had just finished stacking the last box when he heard the bell over the door ring. It was an old fashioned type, left there by the previous owners. He wouldn't have put anything that irritating up, and he was considering taking it down soon. However, it did raise some interesting questions.

To start with there weren't any appointments that day. Many people attended to avoid it, labeling it 'that creepy old shop run by that weirdo'. So anyone coming in voluntarily without an appointment puzzled him. Then again, it could be some kids deciding to play a prank. If that was their intention though, they were in for one hell of a retaliation.

His eyes flickered towards the door, but he was crouching down near the floor at the time. So all he could see was feet and…paws. Paws. They'd brought a dog into his store. The paws moved around a bit. Wonderful, a golden retriever. So not only was there a dog in his store, but it was a big dog no less. He jerked his head upwards in surprise and anger, which made him bang it against a low shelf.

"Damn it," he muttered, looking over towards the door.

"You know," a lilting voice said, laughing a little, "I think that's the first time I've ever heard you swear."

Getting to his feet he took a step out from behind the cluttered display case. A young woman was standing there, one hand absently holding the dog's leash and the other casually on a purse. She was dressed fashionably, and her hair curled softly around her face. The dog gave a soft bark at his approach and she turned her head towards him.

It was then that he saw that the woman was blind. She smiled at him with eyes much paler than anyone's eyes should be. Almost automatically he placed glasses on her face, added some baby fat, and made her shrink a foot or so. It was then that his mind dredged up a battle that had happened seven years prior.

"Lacy," he said, walking over to her.

"Correct Mr. Blake," she answered, cocking her head in his direction, "I would've visited earlier, but I…things got somewhat complicated."

"There was a war going on," he agreed.

"And you did ask we never come back," she added, with a voice tinted with reproach, "I did take that somewhat literally and I figured it would be somewhat rude to come without an invitation."

He decided not to say that that was how it was **meant **to be taken.

"Not to mention that you weren't here. I did come by when I got over the rudeness," she said, "But you were never here. However, I was given a vision this afternoon. Knew I had to come by, so I put out that I was going shopping. Don't worry; Papa still doesn't know you have a store here."

"Would you like a seat?" he asked, remembering his manners and levitating a few chairs over to them.

"That would be nice," she said, "Is it close behind me?"

"Right behind you."

Carefully, with the air of a woman who has learned balance only after great practice, she sat down. There was a confidence there, a certain knowledge of the world that he'd only seen before in older women. Then again, that confidence had been paid for dearly. Balthazar sat down too, which earned another bark from her dog.

"Teresa," she admonished gently, petting the dog on her head, "Ssshhh. Friend Teresa, friend."

Teresa looked at Balthazar as though she didn't quite believe her mistress. He didn't blame the canine.

"Papa got her for me a few months…afterwards," she explained, "She's my eyes now."

He nodded vaguely.

"How's uh…he doing? Him and…Robin?" he asked, fishing around for their names.

She coughed gently, perhaps hiding a laugh.

"Papa's the same as ever. Robin was drafted two years ago," she said, "So was Mrs. Preston's son and a few other members of our cadre. Robin was in the Medical Corps though. He was training to be a doctor then and they needed medics."

"I can't imagine him having the strength to be in the military," grinned Balthazar.

She grinned back.

"You know the oddest thing happened after that night. He started working out…became the star quarterback on my school's team. He was the toast of the town."

Lacy leaned back in her chair.

"I didn't want to see any visions about him, after he left," she said softly, "Visions are the only times I can see…but there wouldn't have been anything I could do if I saw him hurt or killed in Europe. I didn't in the end; I have more control over my powers these days. But he came home safe, and the rest of them did too."

"I'm glad to hear it," Balthazar said, "Robin showed promise. Not as a sorcerer really, but as a person."

"He's come into that promise now I believe," she said, holding up her left hand.

Balthazar leaned in and was surprised to see a gold band on one of her fingers.

"The two of you-" he started.

"Three months after he came back," she said brightly, "I was performing in a USO and he just came in. I rushed off the stage and he asked me to marry him right there. Of course I said yes. Everyone cheered."

"Congratulations," he said warmly, getting up, "I should've sent a wedding present."

"How would you have known?" she asked, her head darting this way and that as he moved around the room.

"Never mind that," he said, finding a cherry-red journal and holding it out, "Here. Consider it a year late."

Reaching her arms out she took it and ran her fingers over it.

"It's enchanted," he told her, "You just think about what you want to write and it'll appear. The words will appear in your mind when you run your fingers over it, so there's the Braille problem fixed."

"Thank you," she said, her eyes shining somewhat, "Thank you."

Lacy settled it on her lap. She brushed some of her hair out of her face before saying thoughtfully;

"You're probably wondering why I'm here at all. You are trying to distance yourself from everyone right now after all."

"What makes you say that?" he asked as he sat down again.

"My father said that," she said, "Might be why you haven't contacted us in seven years, especially when I know your base is here. By the way, I asked directions on the way here. It looks like you changed the name."

"A name should say what it is," he said, raising an eyebrow, "I thought you would approve."

"I do," she said, "I do very much. Arcana, a Seer's greatest prophecy. Cabana, Steed translated into Latin. Arcana Cabana, my prophecy's proper name. Is something very important going to happen here?"

He shrugged before he realized she couldn't see the gesture. It didn't do to tip your hand too soon. Balthazar had been surprised when he had seen the store's address under the Prime Merlinian's image beneath June 14, 2000 on the Arcana. He had since transferred the Arcana onto a piece of paper that he kept in a travelling case in a safe.

"Well," she said after some more silence, "I see. I actually came because of this."

Lacy opened her purse and pulled out an old piece of paper. It was yellowing a little and she unfolded it carefully as she closed her purse. From where he was Balthazar could only see the back, but Lacy was staring at it as though she could see the image. Breathing out she said calmly, as though she had been choosing her words;

"When Horvath locked me up in the Belleclaire," she said, "I drew many things. I can only half remember most of them. Some were very simple; a friend of mine was going to ace a test, a subway station was going to break down, what my father's favorite restaurant was serving for the lunch special, that sort of thing. Others though; I predicted the members of the Allies, the formation of the United Nations, Hiroshima, and something very serious that is going to happen in Korea and Vietnam soon."

She stared down at her picture.

"I didn't know how it was going to end up," she said, "So I ripped them up when you arrived. Then I had you burn them."

"I remember."

Carefully Lacy straightened the picture a little more.

"But…I stole two from the collection," she said, "Or, to be more specifically, I knew I had to hide them and didn't put them with the rest. I didn't want Horvath seeing them under any circumstances. The first I gave to you; the two of you fighting on the Chrysler building. I didn't know if it would give him any sort of advantage, and giving my captor that was the last thing that I wanted. I thought you might like it though…might keep you alive. Perhaps it did. I'm still not one hundred percent sure how these things work."

Balthazar nodded, not sure where this was going.

"The second…" she said, looking at the piece of paper, "He would've hurt me if he saw it. I didn't need a vision to know that. And I was in so much pain already."

She swallowed.

"I debated for a very long time whether or not to give this to you," she continued, "I didn't know if it would do more harm than good you see. I was thirteen at the time, so many things had happened, and you left so very soon. But I didn't get rid of it, just thought and thought. When I had that vision this afternoon I saw my chance. I decided it would be cruel **not **to give it to you."

Tentatively she held the picture out. Balthazar took it without looking at it, only looking at the giver. Lacy was obviously fighting to hold back tears. He wasn't sure that he wanted to look at the picture anymore. However, cowardice wasn't in his nature. Pulling the picture towards him he looked down at it.

The pastels had smudged, but the image was still very clear. He saw himself, limping slightly as though he were exhausted. His breath caught as he took in the other figure. Veronica stood by him, his black coat over her shoulders. His hand was wrapped around her shoulders and hers were around his waist. Her head was tilted so that it rested comfortably in the crook of his neck.

Around it all was a deep, strong black line. An either or; it would happen or one of them would die. Balthazar closed his eyes and fought back tears. It didn't do much good though. Teresa seemed to pick up on the mood in the room and gave a whimper. Sounding tentative again Lacy swallowed once more and said;

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said, "I haven't seen…I haven't seen her face in over a millennia. You've come the closest I've ever seen to capturing it."

Lacy nodded as Balthazar sighed and tucked it into his coat. The minutes ticked by in silence. After awhile Lacy got up carefully and said;

"They're expecting me at lunch. I have a feeling I'm not going to see you again Mr. Blake, security reasons perhaps, so I've got one question before I go."

"And that is?" he asked, trying to keep down all the emotions that he was feeling.

"Well," she said awkwardly, "I'm supposed to be the new Vivienne, the herald of the Prime Merlinian, just like she was Merlin's herald. It's very symmetric."

"Things do go around in circles sometimes," he agreed.

"Yes well," she said, still awkward, "I've been doing a bit of research. Now…Vivienne was Nimue's grandmother wasn't she?"

"Yes."

"Nimue, the greatest Seer the world has ever seen."

"Yes," Balthazar repeated, once again confused as to where this was going.

"Nimue…" she said, "Merlin's wife?"

Now he understood. Clearing his throat Balthazar said;

"Listen, things do go around in circles sometimes but they don't go around perfectly. Vivienne was ten when she had the Arcana about Merlin while you were thirteen. She'd already had Nimue's father by your age. Like I said, it's not perfect. You might have a granddaughter who isn't a Seer, or who isn't involved with the Prime Merlinian, or who isn't either, or you might not even have a granddaughter."

A sudden thought struck him.

"Or…do you already know?" he asked.

"Well…I'm not…you see…it's vague now…and…" she said before suddenly stopping and shaking her head, "Well, I just figured that if anyone would know you would."

"No one's perfect Ms. Steed," he said, getting up and opening the door for her.

"I'm not a Steed anymore," she reminded him, "I got married remember?"

"Sorry," he apologized, smirking, "Would you mind introducing yourself again then?"

Lacy smiled again and gave a small mock-curtsey before saying,

"Good day Mr. Blake, I'm Mrs. Robin Barnes."

"Have a wonderful life then Mrs. Barnes."

She laughed and left the store, the door closing behind her.

_** A/N:** Thanks a ton for the reviews and critiques everyone! The third and final installment in the 'All the Right Moves' series is coming. It's called 'Brave New World' and takes place after the movie. Look for it sometime next week!_


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